>>35247887
>Knock on the door, best not to deviate from Bart's instructions.

>>35247887
>>Knock on the door, best not to deviate from Bart's instructions

>Knock
Writin'

>>35247887
>>Knock on the door, best not to deviate from Bart's instructions.

Heh. We live in America. We've got enough illegal arms transactions and transfers going on weekly to arm a regiment, and at the Mexican border, we do.

>>35248124
>21:32:06
>>35248125
>21:32:05

Fukken time travelers.

You approach the door cautiously, pausing to make sure noone is watching before reaching up and knocking three times. There is a brief pause before the door is pulled open, a burly man with a truly glorious moustache standing before you. He's bald, but the hair on his upper lip more than makes up for his shining dome. Meticulously groomed and waxed, it curls inwards on itself at each end. It's the sort of moustache you'd see on a cartoon villain or an eighteenth century pugilist.

The man peers down at you suspiciously, folding his arms in front of his barrel chest. He's a good foot taller than you, and you're not exactly short. "Da." Is the only word he says, his accent thick and slavic. Russian, you think. On some level, you feel more comfortable knowing you're working with Russians. They just seem more professional than say, Mexican drug lords or gangbanging thugs.

You clear your throat uncomfortably before responding. "Bart sent me." The man raises an eyebrow before slamming the door shut. You're confused. Did you do something wrong? Were you supposed to knock in a certain sequence or something?

A few moments later another man opens the door, this one slight by comparison. A couple of inches shorter than you and vaguely effeminite, swept back hair and a clean shaven face. Before you can speak he launches into a speech. "A'right listen, 'ere's what you's gotta do. Turn around, walk straight. Keep walkin' 'til ya gets jerked. Don't say nothin' while our guy drags ya 'round. Hear me?" He doesn't wait for you to respond, instead merely slamming the door shut. You turn around, hesitantly, and peer straight ahead. There is an alleyway between two warehouses directly in front of you, opening out into the ocean.

>Do as the damned Yankee said. Straight ahead, don't say a word. Put your trust in these thugs.
>This is sketchy as hell, and you're carrying ten thousand dollars in cash in your pocket. Bail.
>Write-in

>>35248545
>Do as the damned Yankee said. Straight ahead, don't say a word. Put your trust in these thugs.

>>35248545
>Do as the damned Yankee said. Straight ahead, don't say a word. Put your trust in these thugs.

>>35248545
>>Do as the damned Yankee said. Straight ahead, don't say a word. Put your trust in these thugs.

Wait, so are we Australian?

>>35248731
are we southern?

>>35248545
>Do as the damned Yankee said. Straight ahead, don't say a word. Put your trust in these thugs.

We're definitely going to get killed and dumped in the ocean.

>>35248545
How much of Diarca's stuff are you ripping off for this quest? 40%? 60%? More?

>Do as the man says.

>>35248913
Not much. 10-20% at most.

Who here got notes ready for this shit?

who here actually though this was only going to be a one-shot?

File: fudge.gif (497 KB, 300x126)

497 KB GIF

>>35248926
Awww....I wanted to bind spirits to my shoes and shoot lasers with the heart of a magma bug. Thats...that's still gonna be possible right?

>>35249256
Yeah. Well, maybe not the lasers. Maybe. We'll see.

File: lqn.png (202 KB, 547x673)

202 KB PNG

>>35248974
Ready as I'll ever be.

>>35249350
>typed

>>35249423
>not making backups

>>35249435
>leaving more evidence behind for them to find

>>35249350
>51 MBs worth of text.
M8

File: bad bad bad bad bad bad bad.gif (479 KB, 500x202)

479 KB GIF

>>35249350
Anon....Anon....please put down the Pharmacy's monthly shipment of Aderall. It's fine, really, we can help you.

>>35249450
>not having a 2048-bit key encrypted folder nested within seven archives and a zip
>not having a microwave right next to your computer

>>35249525
>not having explosives built into your walls

>>35249480
Hey man, there's an anon out there who filled up a notebook with speculation and sketches partly inspired by the book of solomon.

I would pay hard cash money to see a scan of that notebook.

Also, Life Quest, fuck yeah! Been awaiting this eagerly Soma.

>>35249562

Not giving them something to set off and silence you without any questions asked.

>>35249562
>not having explosives built into the foundations and around the property for 180 yards
>not having an escape house with a lock synchronized to the reproduction rhythm of your epigenome

>>35249562
Well, now I've got something to add to my to-do list!

>>35249562
It's like you want to get v&

>>35249698
After buying summer camp levels of lighter fluid and styrofoam containers without getting v& I can safely say that it's easier than it sounds.

>>35249698
Could someone tell me what v& is? Is it napalm?

>>35249821
V and
Vaned
FBI has vans
V&

>>35249821
Vanned, newfriend. It's what happens when you go too far. Countries other than the U.S. have different methods, similar results.

>>35249821
vaned, banned. someone used to troll people with exploding van footage implying it was a threat after a common typo

File: 1363152619768.jpg (28 KB, 480x412)

28 KB JPG

>>35249843
>>35249862
>>35249888
At times like this I am glad I am posting from New Zealand.

>>35250006
Enjoy being presumed guilty if you're ever under suspicion of rape.

File: Rodge.png (1012 KB, 700x1000)

1012 KB PNG

You pull yourself up to your full height and take a deep breath to steady yourself before striding towards the alleyway. You try to appear more confident than you feel, and by and large you think you pull it off. You step into the alleyway and don't find yourself immediately accosted, a fact that only makes you more paranoid as you proceed further into the darkness of the cramped space.

As you're proceeding down the alleyway a door is jerked open to your left revealing a man in a black ski mask. He lunges at you, and the world goes black. Some sort of burlap sack has been pulled over your head and you feel hands squeezing around your neck. You panic; scratching, punching, and kicking but not crying out. You feel your foot connect with what you think is a shin followed by a muttered curse in a language you don't recognize.

The hands around your neck relax their grip. A voice hisses out next to your ear. "Easy, easy! It's just protocol, man!" This gives you pause. "Can't have you remembering the route to our bazaar, can we?" Images of camels and arab men shouting angrily at one another spring to mind. "Just go along with it, yeah?"

You chew your lip irritably but nod. "Fine, lead the way." Your masked guide grabs you by the arm and tugs you into the warehouse he just ambushed you from. It smells like gasoline and weed, a strange combination of scents. You're lead down a flight of stairs carefully. You hear wood creaking under foot and the lapping of waves against stone, or perhaps a pier. You're not really certain.

(1/3)

Your guide halts abruptly and places both of his hands on your shoulders, turning you carefully to your left. "Careful, walking across a gangplank. Don't slip." You do as instructed, the sound of your footsteps pounding against the wooden gangplank echoing loudly in whatever room you're in. Must be big. You stumble off the edge and nearly faceplant into the fibreglass deck of the ship, but someone else grabs you by the shoulders to keep you from falling. You're led a short ways off and pushed into a comfortable, cushioned seat while footsteps stomp off across the deck towards what you presume to be the cockpit.

You hear an engine roar to life, and then you're jerked back into your seat as the boat rockets out of whatever underground dock it was hidden away in. Damn, you feel like you're in a spy movie or something. You should probably feel nervous or afraid and you sort of do, but mostly you're just giddy as hell.

The ship banks sharply. West, you think. Assuming you were going north when you left the docks. Wait, no. You were going west when you left the docks, weren't you? You were, because the highway was directly behind you. Which means now you're going... uh... south. Yeah. That's it! Towards the city, if you're not mistaken. However, before you get very far the ship banks again. You'd be going... back towards the docks, wouldn't you? No, that can't be right...

This process goes on for what feels like hours, the ship taking seemingly random turns. The man next to you never lets go of your arm, nor does he speak. Eventually the ship slows, and you're jolted as it bumps into something. You hear a man shout, the same man who jumped you, and another man shouts in response. You're hauled up to your feet and someone jerks the bag off your head.

(2/3)

You're momentarily blinded by the light, that sack was pretty thick. When your vision clears you find a man standing before you, cigarette dangling limply from the corner of his mouth. A long, garrish scar reaches from his forehead to his jawline, crossing his left eye but leaving it seemingly unharmed. He's got long hair, and is dressed casually. You'd describe him as the prototypical slacker.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and exhales a cloud of acrid smoke, grinning. "'Sup man. Rodge. You Bart's friend?" You're a little dumbstruck at first, but eventually nod. He claps you on the shoulder. "Great, I think you're really gonna like the shit I got in stock. Trust me man, this stuff's top quality. Imported from fuckin' Ukraine or some shithole country, man. Can't get better."

You were imaging an imposing crime boss in an impeccably tailored suit, or maybe a crochety old war vet. Not a thirty-something stoner in desperate need of a haircut. Your guard, a burly gentlemen with short cropped hair and a thick beard, pulls you off of the speedboat while Rodge follows behind. You're beached on some sort of long sand bar in the middle of the ocean, not a building in sight.

You're stopped in front of a small, metal hatch in the floor. Rodge bends down and opens it carefully, allowing you and your imposing chaperone to take the lead. You tromp down a flight of metal stairs, glancing back to see Rodge closing the hatch behind you. Air hisses loudly as the hatch closes and the bunker is presumably pressurized, you feel a thick knot twist through your gut as Rodge locks the hatch behind him.

(3/4)

You're stopped in front of a vault door, Rodge loping out in front of you and clapping his hands together. "Quick question, since you seem new to this sort of thing." You're about to respond, but he holds up his hands to stop you. "Nothin' wrong with that man, it's just pretty obvious is all. Anyway, is there anything in particular you're looking for? Newbies tend to get a little-" He waves a hand searchingly through the air. "-distracted, when they see the inventory."

>You just want a simple pistol, ballistic but otherwise nothing fancy.
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.
>You want something compact and automatic.
>You want a giant fuck-off gun.
>Write-in

>>35250246
>You want something compact and automatic.
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.

PDW and a rifle. Best combination, yes? Stick to the the Czech shit. Ukraine manufacturing is nice, but it doesn't compare to the firearm masters of Eastern Europe.

>>35250246
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.

>>35250246
Rifle. And if we can choose multiple, pistol as well.
Our plasma pistol works like heat shotgun in atmo right?

>>35250246
we already have the plasma pistol right?>>35250246
>>You want something compact and automatic.

>>35250421
Yeah, basically.

>>35250246
> you want something compact and automatic

>>35250246
>>You want something compact and automatic.
>>You want a rifle, something with some real range.
Bart advised us that most fighting in this line of work takes place in relatively confined spaces.

Of course, Bart probably doesn't often plan to assassinate his co-workers on the most desolate landmass on the planet.

>>35250246
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.
>You want something compact and automatic.

>>35250246
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.

>>35250246
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.

>>35250388
I guess I'll support this, with the addition of seeig if anything else strikes our fancy.

>>35250246
Were we smart enough to keep track if the turns? If we can figure out how fast we were going we can pretty much figure out where this place is. Killing a stoner fag and taking his shit seems like fun

>>35250246
>You just want a simple pistol, ballistic but otherwise nothing fancy.
>You want a rifle, something with some real range.

>>35250489
>killing Bart's contact
You're no friend of mine.

Soma, what happens if someone is found carrying illegal weapons? How hard is it to identify them as such, etc. ? Might be better to go for pistol/pdw if it's some serious jail time.

>>35250508
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bartholomew_the_Apostle
Never trust a Bart.

>>35250553
This is the future mang, they probably got collapsible rifles that aren't shit.

>>35250491
>>35250482
>>35250477
>>35250467
>>35250463
>>35250411
>>35250388
>>35250421
>Snoipah

>>35250388
>>35250427
>>35250463
>>35250467
>PDW

>>35250491
>Pistol

>>35250553
10 years in a federal prison and $10,000 fine. Minimum. P serious.

Anyway, you'll ask after the rifle and the PDW.

Anyone else think stoner boy can see our head tattoo and is involved with spooky skeleton man too?

>>35250758
Anon, you're just being paranoid.

>>35250758
Nope

>>35250758
No.

>>35250777
We got shot by our co-worker in the woods, died, made a deal with a Skelton, and came back to life.
I think paranoia is an acceptable thing to have at this point.

http://strawpoll.me/2689416

>>35250892
LQ is at thread 4, it's obvious that BQ would be better at this point, anon.

>>35251015
This, we haven't even gotten strong enough to abuse the system yet

You think you recall Bart recommending a shotgun, or at least something close range. However, keeping in mind you'll be in one of the flattest, most barren, and above all emptiest parts of the planet something with good range ought to serve you well. "I want a rifle. I want to be able to nail a bastard from a mile away." You pause, cocking your head to the side. "I guess something compact and automatic too, just in case. Y'know?" It feel so strange to speak so nonchalantly about killing someone, but you're not overly discomforted.

It doens't even seem to phase Rodge, he merely nods. "Alright, I got something like that. Fuck, man. I got something ten times better than that if you've got the money to spend, and fuckin' pea shooters coming out of my ass." He turns around, pressing his palm flat against a panel on the vault door. It scans the surface of his palm and then something clanks loudly, the vault door slowly swinging open.

Guns. Hundreds of guns. Thousands of guns. Ammunition by the crate, and explosives taking up the entire back wall. You've never seen an arsenal like this. He could supply a small army with this stockpile. Rodge spreads his arms wide, as if to embrace the sight before you. "Welcome to Utopia, friend! Listen, I got some shit in mind I think will be right up your alley, so take a browse around, I'll pick some things out."

>Head for the rack of shotguns.
>Head for the really high tech toys.
>Head for the plasma weaponry.
>Head for the explosives.
>Write-in

>>35250892
Why did you ask that question?

>>35251180
>>Head for the rack of shotguns

>>35251180
>>Head for the rack of shotguns.
>>Head for the really high tech toys.
Plasma isn't good in atmosphere, and we already have something of that kind, right?

>>35251245
Right

>>35251029
For Panya's sake, we haven't even got our hands on an oud yet!

>>35251180
>Head for the really high tech toys.

>>35251245
This

>>35251236
Changing vote to
>Head for the rack of shotguns.
>Head for the really high tech toys.

>>35251321
>Panya
>not Pani
Fuck off, degenerate heretic scum!

>>35251180
>>Head for the explosives.
>>Head for the really high tech toys.

I want to see what qualifies as bleeding edge in this age. And you can never go wrong with pound of plastic explosive. Might need to build some walls at some point after all.

>>35251321
Keep the Banished Quest related talk to a minimum please.

>>35251391
Keep gayness to a minimum please

>>35251236
>>35251245
>>35251351
>Shotguns

>>35251380
>>35251351
>>35251324
>>35251245
>High Tech

>>35251380
>Shit that goes boom.

You'll check out the high tech shit, and then have the option to look at the shotguns before departing.

>>35251555
>inb4 tech spirit

>>35251866
>not expecting some kind of spirit at least
>implying this mass collection of murder weapons haven't attracted a death/war/murder/tech/gun spirit
It's like you don't even Soma

>>35251905
Are you making up the dakka right now, Soma?

>>35252259
>it's just a giant gun
>it never stops firing
>it shoots flaming skeletons
Spooky dakka spirit

File: Particle Cannon.jpg (177 KB, 1600x563)

177 KB JPG

You survey the weaponry before you, your eye drawn almost immediately to a massive cannon sitting on a small platform bolted to a table. It's almost as long as you are tall, three large prongs extending outwards from the main body. You recognize it as a particle cannon, the sort of shit you'd see on top of the wall stretching along the Israeli border or mounted on top of tanks. It's an anti-personnel weapon, technically declared inhumane and so illegal to actually use in combat. It essentially causes one's body to rapidly degrade by slamming quantum-state particles into a target. Not particularly effective against armor, though.

Directly adjascent to the particle beam cannon is a device you don't recognize. It's large... and spiky. There is some kind of barrel-like magazine attached to the bottom. At least, you think it's a magazine. Youre not sure how one would go about firing it, considering you don't see a trigger anywhere It's a strange gun, frankly. You're not sure what to make of it.

Its neighbor is even stranger though. Constructed of some sort of chitinous plates, it appears almost as if some massive, perverse insect. Red ribons of some unknown material extend from a spinning... round thing in the center of the gun. Again, you don't see any obvious trigger. It doesn't even really look like it was designed for human hands. What the fuck are the Ukranians doing over in Eastern Europe?

The last item that you would qualify as really out there is at least far mor familiar than the other three. It's tiny by comparison, about the size of your average rifle. It's got a smooth, aesthetically pleasing design. Instead of a barrel, four long prongs extend out from the central body of the rifle, leading you to guess that it's some method of railgun. Most railguns are much, much larger though. Most also require some sort of outside power source, usually a massive outside powersource.

File: Lightning Gun Prototype, (...).jpg (54 KB, 521x168)

54 KB JPG

The last item that you would qualify as really out there is at least far mor familiar than the other three. It's tiny by comparison, about the size of your average rifle. It's got a smooth, aesthetically pleasing design. Instead of a barrel, four long prongs extend out from the central body of the rifle, leading you to guess that it's some method of railgun. Most railguns are much, much larger though. Most also require some sort of outside power source, usually a massive outside powersource.

You feel a hand slap your shoulder and jump involuntarily. "Admiring the merchandise, I see! I get the feeling most of these are a bit outside of your price range. That is, unless you're carrying a hundred thousand dollars on you, which I doubt. You don't have a garbage bag full of bills for one." He laughs at some imagined joke, you don't really get it. Thankfully he removes his hand from your shoulder and wanders off, inviting you to follow. You spare the weapons arrayed around you one last glance before turning to follow.

You're stopped in your tracks by the sight you see in the vault entrance. A man dressed in a tattered, blood-flecked trench coat wearing a gass mask and an ancient metal helmet., golden capitals inscribed across its surface Suspenders fastened with silver buckles hold up an ammo belt. It takes you a moment to realize his right arm is gone, only loose rags left where his arm should be, and his tie isn't attached to anything. In fact it just seems to sort of melt into the rest of him. His entire being is hazy and indistinct, and he mask exudes some sort of thick, choking black smoke. You're reminded vaguely of old pictures you saw in high school of soldiers from the first world war.

(2/3

>>35252349
Fukkin sweet.

>>35252349
I want this guy. Should we absorb him or enslave him?

Dogs circle the man, tongues hanging out and red-rimmed eyes anxiously scanning the surroundings. They two seem ethereal and indistinct, some seeming to almost float through the air, others missing half or more of their bodies. One moment there are three of them, the next five, and the next but one. They melt and flow into and out of the soldier, never remaining long in one place.

Rodge pays the figure no mind, indeed he doesn't seem to notice him. The eyeholes of the figures mask seem to bore into your soul, stripping you to your most essential parts. You find it difficult to maintain eye contact.

>Just ignore it. It's another spirit like any other.
>Wave, see what it does.
>Just watch it for a while, if it doesn't seem hostile don't bug it.
>Write-in

>>35251866
>>35251905
Quit reading my notes.

I'll post the art for the other two guns you saw in a moment, post wasn't long enough to fit all the art.

>>35252447
Fuck what's the German word for hello?

>>35252447
>>Wave, see what it does.

>>35252473
Guten tag

File: Carapace Shotgun.jpg (61 KB, 1024x483)

61 KB JPG

So 4chan is being weird and refusing to let me post the image of the spirit, starting with guns then I guess.

>>35252473
Gutentag.

>>35252447
>>Wave, see what it does.

>>35252473
It's Hallo

>>35252447
>Wave, see what it does.

>>35252507
Forgot to add > wave, see what it does

>>35252447
>>Just watch it for a while, if it doesn't seem hostile don't bug it.
Don't wanna mess with veterans and shit.
Unfortunately I've got to go get my education now. Hope you guys don't fuck anything up!

>>35252447
Wave, make sure to do it with the arm that he still has. I don't want him to feel obligated to wiggle his stump at us

>>35252509
That's more sepcifically 'Good afternoon' but okay.

>>35252447
>Wave, see what it does.

>>35252615
Nah, don't mess with this guy.
I don't know why you guys think he's german, by the way.

>>35252498
>>35252511
>>35252517
>>35252603
>Wave

>>35252531
>Watch

Writin'

>>35252615
>Its name is a concept.
I feel like this dude is too powerful for us.

>>35252666
You can't trick me satan, ill have my dakka spirit
Also because it said old helmet, I think of Germans when I think of helmets on soldiers

>>35252735
Probably, but there is a good chance there are thousands of him. Not just one super strong one

>>35252615
>tfw mobile
>tfw this image actually crashes safari

>>35252737
Gotta love that allied propaganda.
Still working it's magic even to this day.

>>35252770
Does war create demons or spirits?

>>35252666
Trench coat, WWI german gas mask, and a german helmet. If this guy isn't german he's sure trying hard to look like one.

File: Snoipah.jpg (37 KB, 900x425)

37 KB JPG

You wave uncomfortably to the figure. It draws itself up, snapping its heels together, and salutes in response. The guard standing slightly behind it and off to the left looks around for a moment confused and then waves back hesitantly. The spirit drops its hand and strides forward, towards the back of the room. It walks right past you, dogs trailing behind. One of them even snaps at you, but doesn't come anywhere near actually biting. The figure eventually stops in front of a crate, reaching through the metal container before vanishing entirely, its dogs disappearing with it.

That was... strange. Very strange. Rodge snaps his fingers several times to get your attention, and you tear your eyes away from the crate the spirit was reaching into. "Yo, you alright man? You're staring off into space. Don't be goin' all psycho on me."

You wave him off. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just thinking, is all. Anyway, you wanted to show me something?" That seemed sufficient to change the subject, as Rodge quickly returns to lining up an array of weaponry before you. You see two rifles, and three smaller weapons; a submachine gun, a machine pistol, and a proper PDW chambered to fire a rifle round.

"Alright, so here's the gist of what we've got." He points to the first rifle, a long construction with a seemingly giant magazine and a strange scope. "This is the LAKK 99 Anti-Material rifle. This shit is literally meant to put holes in tanks. Scope can make a target ten miles away look right in front of you, and adjust for wind direction as well as bullet drop. Basically, you can't miss with the fuckin' thing. Great rifle, especially for beginners. Not anywhere near quiet though, and frankly if you use it against soft targets it'll be overkill."

(1/2)

File: Snoipah 2.jpg (145 KB, 1600x542)

145 KB JPG

He gestures to the next rifle, a decidedly more high tech affair. You don't even see an obvious magazine. "This little beauty is a lot subtler, but doesn't do so hot against body armor. It's a directed energy weapon, y'know a fuckin' laser beam. I don't know all the specifics, but basically I think it superheats an area to create a vaccuum whever you aim the thing and air collapsing into the vacuum injures the target. So you smash someone's skull in and melt their face to boot. Doesn't make a sound, and charges on its own if you give it time. Like I said though, not good against armor. Even kevlar will do a lot to limit the damage this sorta thing does."

He moeves on to the smaller weapons, gesturing first to the submachine gun. "This here is a Model 909 SMG. Forty round magazine, chambered in forty five ACP. Pretty standard fare really. Gets a lot of use by police forces and in the military. Good weapon, reliably, not a whole lot of bells and whistles. Just lots of bullets down range quickly."

He gestures next to the machine pistol. ".22 Dual Special. A pea shooter, but real versatile. It's set to fire either twenty-two longrifle or twenty-two short-" He gestures to a toggle on the right side just above the trigger, its options labeled long and short. Its purpose is fairly self-explanatory. "Won't penetrate for shit, y'know. Twenty-two caliber and all that. Still, pretty good side arm. Real compact, concealable." Fuck, why is this guy just ramlbing on and on? He's barely making sense.

(2/3)

>>35253939
Ask him what's in that crate the german ghost walked into

File: Model 909.jpg (109 KB, 1062x751)

109 KB JPG

Finally he gestures to the last weapon he's picked out for you. It's a fairly simple construction, a compact, bullpup carbine chambered to fire rifle rounds. "This here is what you're probably really goin' for, y'know? Modular, pretty good penetration, fully automatic, concealable. It's a good weapon, simple."

>Ask what's in the crate.
>Get the LAKK 99 AM Rifle.
>Get the fuckin' lazer beam.

>Get the M909 SMG
>Get the .22 Dual Special
>Get the PDW.

>Write-in

(Sorry that took so long. Made coffee, tried to sober up.)

>>35253974
>Ask what's in the crate.
>Get the LAKK 99 AM Rifle.
>Get the PDW.

>Write-in
Ask about prices

>>35253959
>Seriously offering .22lr PDW
Kill him. Now. Horribly. Shove his bong/blunt into his untenanted skull.

>>35253974
.45 ACP is cool and all but this is the future and we're fighting da' spirits and cyborgs and genetic abnormalities and shit. Don't get a Man-stopper. Get a Monster-dropper.

>Get the PDW.
>Get the LAKK 99 AM Rifle.
>Ask what's in the crate.

>>35253974
>Get the fuckin' lazer beam.
>Get the PDW.

File: .22 Dual Special.jpg (548 KB, 1600x1078)

548 KB JPG

>>35253974
>WHAT'S IN THE BOX?

>Get the PDW.

>>35253974
What's in the box?
What's in the box!?

>>35253974
>Get the fuckin' lazer beam.
>Get the PDW.

File: 350[1].jpg (29 KB, 406x350)

29 KB JPG

>>35253974
>Ask what's in the crate.
>Get the PDW.
Is it gonna be some antique POS that we have to deal with if we want War.

>>35253974
>Get the LAKK 99 AM Rifle.
>Get the PDW.

File: What's in the box.jpg (22 KB, 575x316)

22 KB JPG

>Box
>PDW

>>35254166
>>35254103
>Laser beam

>>35254023
>>35254008
>Antimaterial rifle.

We'll see if box-contents change anything. Writin'

>>35253974
>>Get the fuckin' lazer beam.
>>Ask what's in the crate.
>>Get the PDW.

>>35254217
Antiques possessed by spirits if war are probably fucking amazing.

File: Gewehr 98.jpg (60 KB, 900x767)

60 KB JPG

You gesture towards the crate the spirit reached into before vanishing, it's pressed against the back wall, perhaps ten feet away. It's a long, squat crate on top of another, larger crate labeled ammunition. "What's in the box?"

Rodge peers at the crate for a moment before shaking his head. "Fuck if I know, man. Why?" You find it hard to believe that the man doesn't know the contents of his own stockpile, but it hardly seems appropriate to press him on it. He's running the show here.

You shrug. "Call it curiosity. Why not crack it open and find out?" Rodge hesitates for a long while, staring at you. Eventually he nods, and without a word makes his way over to the crate. You follow close behind.

When you reach the crate Rodge pulls back a panel to reveal a keypad. He quickly pins in a long string of numbers and the top of the crate slides away, before pressing flush against its sides. Inside is a rifle which must be at least four hundred years old. It's made largely of smooth, dark wood. You note sweat stains where a soldier's hand would've gripped the wood and where the stock would've dug into the armpit. This rifle saw actual use. Its barrel is burnished steel. It's a bolt action rifle, something you've only heard about in history lessons. It's embedded in a foam casing, a long dagger of some sort below it and a row of clips, actual stripper clips, in the foam above it. You also note a long strip of leather, a sling you believe.

Rodge grunts, surprisingly unenthusiastic about this find. It's probably worth a fortune, an antique. Looks to still be in working condition to. You can see why the spirit would've reached for this crate, considering its garb and general appearance. "So, is this for sale?" You ask, innocently enough.

(1/2)

Rodge waves a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah I guess. Listen, what all are you planning on getting? The E.E.F laser rifle I'll let go for eight thousand dollars. The LAKK 99 will run you twelve thousand. The M909 eight hundred, .22 Dual Special four hundred, and the PDW I'll let go for an even thousand. This hunk of junk...-" He cast a disdainful glance towards the centuries old rifle. "-three hundred."

>LAKK 99: $12,000
>E.E.F. Laser Rifle: $8,000
>Gewehr 98: $300

>M909: $800
>.22 Dual Special: $400
>PDW: $1,000

>Pick what you'd like, and roll 3d10. Since I assume you'll be haggling.

Rolled 1, 1, 4 = 6 (3d10)

>>35254804
>>E.E.F. Laser Rifle: $8,000
>>Gewehr 98: $300
>>PDW: $1,000

>>35254804
>Gewehr 98
>PDW
I think that's all we'll need.

Rolled 10, 3, 8 = 21 (3d10)

>>35254792
Dice gods be damned I want that Rifle.


>LAKK 99: $12,000
>PDW: $1,000

Rolled 6, 10, 9 = 25 (3d10)

>>35254804
>E.E.F. Laser Rifle: $8,000
>Gewehr 98: $300
>PDW: $1,000

>>35254834
That.
Is not a great roll.

Announcing this now, since I'll probably hit the hay soon. I'm going camping Friday night, and I'll be staying through Sunday morning. That means no quest Friday, sorry to say. I hope to run on Thursday, that is to say later today, to make up for this but that's dependent on me finishing all (or at least the vast majority of) of homework done.

File: 1382393500635.png (80 KB, 500x475)

80 KB PNG

Rolled 10, 2, 3 = 15 (3d10)

>>35254834
>2 critfails in a row
>followed by a 4

Rolled 4, 1, 1 = 6 (3d10)

>>35254804
>E.E.F
>Gewehr 98
>PDW

>>35254834
This

>>35254804
Say, do they still make specialty ammunition in the 7.62 caliber in the far future? Do you think we could have some made if not?

Actually, could we gain access to reloading bench? That way we could make our own.
Wonder if we could make bullets that we could express our powers through?

>>35254834
>>35254959
Dice gods, wtf?

File: PDW.jpg (60 KB, 562x207)

60 KB JPG

>>35254834
>>35254885
>>35254959
>Lasers

>>35254856
>LAKK

You're obviously getting the Gewehr 98 and the PDW. With the laser rifle that'll put your graand total at $9,300, within budget.

>>35254834
>>35254856
>>35254885
>6, 21, 25 vs DC 20
>Success!
That will knock the price down to $7,000 even. Here is a picture of the PDW by the way, which I forgot to post earlier.

Does anyone know what Soma does when nat1s and nat10s both come up?

>>35254982
They still make 7.62x54mmR since it's just a good cartridge in general. Same story with 7.92x57mm Mauser. So yeah, you could find ammunition for either a moist nugget or for the Gewehr.

>>35255024
I hope mr war can teach us german, also how we're german Russian relations in ww1? How were german Russian relations when the princess was alive? I need someone not dumb to answer me. Historyfags hear my call

>>35255049
A single nat1 means nothing, and I don't think we've ever had a nat 3 or 30, so who knows.

>>35255049
I don't do crits/crit fails unless it's a Nat 3 or a Nat 30.

>>35255073
Germano-Russian relations were cold during WW1, since they were at war with one another. This despite their two kings (Well, Kaiser and Tsar) being on good terms, both of them grandchildren of Queen Victoria of England. Tsar Nicky later withdrew from WW1 when communist rebellion swept through Russia, eventually leading to the death of the Tsar and his entire family, and the ascension of Lenin to power.

>>35255118
So uh, don't show flame bitch our new bitching rifle. Got it.

>>35255073
In general, pretty fucking awful. The Germans have been invading Russia repeatedly for 500 years.

That much said, if Anatasia is actually who she claims to be, than she would likely get along relatively well with mr. gas mask. The last Tsarina was German royalty herself, so that would make her half-German.

>>35255066
Good to know. Another question, could we acquire a scope for this relic? According to wikipedia, there were telescopic variants produced even during WWI, and one of those might make this gun much more versatile, depending on what we wanted to use it for.

File: The most lethal human to (...).jpg (120 KB, 500x719)

120 KB JPG

>>35255212
Silly American. You are just like the Germans, always trying to overengineer complicated shit to overcome problem of deficient gene and sub-par training. A true Marksman needs no scope in the white void of snow. Do as Simo did. Like a true man.

>>35255359
He looks like a cheery little gnome.

>>35255359
White Death

>>35255359
Kind of appropriate, since we'll be in Antarctica. Also, didn't the Germans blockade the Finns during the Winter War but help the Finns during the Continuation War?

thread dead?

File: You gonna get psioned son.jpg (219 KB, 1280x960)

219 KB JPG

>>35256010
Thread probably ded.

You sigh deeply, glancing between the old wooden rifle and the various other weapons on offer. "I think I'll take this thing, what is it?"

Rodge shrugs his shoulders and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Man, I don't know. What do I look like, an arms dealer or a historian?" He turns around, lifting the rifle gently, almost reverently out of its case. He leans in close, inspecting some engravings along one side of the bolt action. "Says Gewehr 98. Some fuckin' German name."

You squint. "Wait, nineteen-ninety-eight?" Rodge twist the rifle, instead looking at a seperate inscription just in front of the bolt action. "Nah, nineteen seventeen it looks like. So that'd make it a model eighteen-ninety-eight. This thing is fuckin' ancient, man. You sure you want it?"

You nod resolutely. "I'm sure. I'll take the E.E.F and the PDW as well. Listen, though. Nine thousand three hundred dollars is an awfully steep price to pay, especially considering, as you've said, this 'Gewehr 98' would be more suited for a museum than a battlefield. How about... fifty dollars for the Gewehr?"

Rodge raises his cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag, blowing harsh smoke in your face. You're not particuarly bothered by the smoke, but it's annoying nonetheless. "That's bullshit, man. Fifty bucks? Nah. Two hundred."

You shake your head. "I just can't do that, a hundred at most. It's all I can offer. Think of it this way, I'm making two other large purchases. It will all wash out in the end, yeah?"

(1/?)

Rodge seems to consider this for a short while, rubbing his poor excuse for a beard contemplatively. Eventually he holds out his hand, and you shake. "A hundred for the Gewehr, I can stomach that." He drops your hand and instead turns his attention to tucking the rifle back into its foam packing and closing the oblong crate it comes in, locking it. He withdraws a strip of paper and a pen from one of his pockets, writing out a long string of numbers and laying it across the keypad before closing the panel, concealing it. "She's all yours, access code is underneath the panel."

You hand over the hundred dollar bill and then heft up the crate. It's surprisingly heavy, not like the lightweight materials guns are typically made of nowadays. Fortunately, you manage with relative ease once you adjust your carrying stance. You end up hauling the oblong crate back to the table where the other weapons lie, pointing out the EEF and the PDW.

You open your mouth to speak but Rodge cuts you off. "Listen, man. I gave you a steep discount on the rifle but I can't do the same with these two. Nine thousand bucks, cough it up and they're yours." He ashes his cigarette onto the floor and glares at the stub for a short while before snuffing it out on the tabletop.

"Now hold on, this PDW doesn't even have any visible maker's marks, or serial numbers, or even a model name. It's probably just a cheap Chinese-" Rodge interjects here. "Ukrainian, or somethin'. Not Chinese. Fuck Chicoms, man." Chicoms, really? Is that even a term people use anymore? Sure, China barely even maintains the illusion of communism in this day and age. May as well call the Germans Nazis.

(2/3 or 4)

You push socio-political ranting to the back of your mind and focus on the task of buying these guns. "Well, a cheap 'Ukranian, or something' knock-off then. Neither inspire much confidence in the quality of the weapon. You probably bought the thing for three goats and a chicken."

Rodge reaches up and rubs his eyes wearily. "Fine, seven hundred dollars then. You still owe me eight thousand seven hundred dollars."

You frown, you'd hoped to get away with a little more money left in your pocket than thirteen hundred bucks. "I question whether the EEF is really worth eight thousand dollars. I mean, I can buy a laser rifle for a couple hundred bucks and, as you said yourself, this thing is shit against armor. The targets I intend to be facing won't be unarmored." Shit, speaking of armor. You meant to pick some up while you were here. You spare a glance around the room, but unfortunately don't see any. That's dissappointing. You can buy a kevlar vest at any sporting goods store, but you were hoping for something a little heavier.

Rodge shakes his head. "Your average run of the mill laser rifle won't do much more than blind a deer. This thing melts people's faces off and crushes their bones all in one shot. I don't see how you could argue it's worth less than seven thousand eight hundred."

You clear your throat. "I was actually thinking more in the five thousand dollar range." Rodge shoves a hand into his pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, fishing a bent cig out of the pack, jamming it in his mouth, and hurriedly lighting it. He takes a long, relieved drag before exhaling. "Shit, you're lucky I still had cigs. Hell, only thing that calms me down this days, especially when someone is standing her blatantly insulting me."

The dramatics annoy you but you push onwards. "Fine, six thousand. That's a fair price."

Rodge laughs. "Fair price my ass, sixty five or you can go fuck yourself."
(3/4)

You scowl. "Sixty two hundred, that'll make the final price a nice, even seven thousand."

Rodge considers your offer for a long while before extending a hand. You grasp it and shake. "Done deal, then. Shell out the cash and the guns are yours."

He busies himself tucking guns into a single case, locking said case, and scrawling the access code out so you can open them later. In the meantime, you count out seventy hundred dollar bills and stack them neatly. Money changes hands, you relieve Rodge of the gun case, and after that you're quickly make your way out of the vault and back to the surface.

You wince as you emerge from the subterranean lair, the sunlight harsh. You're led once more onto the boat, which is still beached on the sandy shore, and once more a masked assailant forces a bag over your head. You don't even react this time, merely letting yourself be lead over to the seats. You bought a good stock of weapons today, they ought to be more than sufficient for the upcoming mission. All that's left is camping supplies and perhaps armor of some sort.

>Alright, I've got to crash for the night if I want to wake up at a decent hour and get started on homework. Like I said, maybe a thread tomorrow. No thread Friday. I hope to run tomorrow.

>Apologies for the long overdue, likely typo-ridden post folks.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Life%20Quest
Archive here. Night folks!

>>35256090
goodnight soma, thanks for running lq again

>>35256072
Goodnight you magnificent DM you, thanks for running this.

>>35256072
Good night and g'luck with the coursework! Don't run yourself ragged, y'hear?

War seems like a pretty good, he saluted to us after all, as unfriendly as his puppies were. Do we want to make a pact with him, or subdue him? I'd really prefer subduing if it doesn't destroy his mind/soul/existence/essence/whatever, so he won't just cease being once we're killed, although maybe a pact for the puppies could work.

>>35258724
I think we shouldn't subdue intelligent/sapient/sentient/conscious spirits, at least until we figure out how the system works.